


Lessons in Sharing

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, Repressed Feelings, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Small Bouts of Jealousy, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: Molly and Fjord share a bed. Things get... complicated





	Lessons in Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to just go ahead and ship as many couples as I can for this fandom. I figure, I can't be disappointed that way.
> 
> Thanks for reading and drop me a comment if you'd like :)

It starts at The Restless Giant.

It’s some hole in the wall tavern, on the outskirts of some blink and you’ll miss it town, miles outside of the nearest city. The barkeep, an Elven woman between the ages of 25 and 50 (Molly has given up trying to figure out the ages of elves) has two rooms available and the group splits up. The girls go into one, the guys and Molly in the other.

Caleb, who had taken a few too many blows during their last fight, automatically gets one of the beds, his protests ignored as Molly and Fjord lower him onto the mattress, and he’s asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Molly suspects Nott will be in and out of their room several times tonight checking on Caleb, Jester most likely following her, and he resigns himself to a sleepless night, gesturing to the remaining bed with a flourishing flick of his wrist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning up at Fjord.

“Nah, you take it,” Fjord responds immediately, forever the perfect gentleman despite his obvious shadiness. “I don’t mind the floor.”

“I insist.”

“Molly, honestly, I’m fine with the floor.”

Molly sighs, putting his hands on his hips, studying the bed for a long moment. He narrows his eyes, pondering what he’s about to propose, before turning back to Fjord. “Obviously there’s only one solution.”

Humoring him, Fjord says, “And that is?”

“We share.”

A surprised laugh escapes Fjord’s lips and he shakes his head. “Molly, that’s awfully kind of you to offer, but I really am fine with the floor.”

“Nonsense,” Molly says, already shrugging his coat off, “it’s big enough for the both of us. We’ll be fine.” He pulls his boots off, piling both them and his coat on the rickety desk along with Caleb’s stuff, and heads towards the bed. He walks past Fjord, patting his chest, and smirks at him. “Try not to make it weird. It’s just a bed.”

Fjord coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but...”

Molly looks up from pulling the blankets back, giving him a patient look, and says, “Fjord, just get in the bed. A few hours won’t hurt you, and honestly you need about as much sleep as our slumbering friend over there.” He gestures to Caleb with his head before getting in the bed.

Fjord sighs tiredly but still nods, pulling his armor and boots off, leaving them with Molly and Caleb’s stuff, and slowly crosses the room. Molly moves over, patting the bed invitingly, and Fjord almost declines the offer again, but he pushes the urge away and gets under the covers.

He immediately regrets it when Molly says, “If you feel something poking you in the morning, there’s a 85% chance it’s just my horns.” He reaches over, snuffing out the candle by their bed with his fingers, and murmurs, “Good night.”

Ears burning, Fjord grumbles, “Damn it, Molly.”

* * *

Night two at The Restless Giant ends with too much mead and too much flirting on Beau’s part. Fjord is pretty sure he’s never seen Yasha’s face get that red, hell he’s never seen  _anyone’s_  face get that red and they have Caleb in their group.

Nott passes out at the table, Beau not far behind her, and both Jester and Yasha end up with an armful of intoxicated party member when they eventually go to bed. Fjord follows Caleb, who stumbles a bit and giggles softly to himself, making sure he makes it to his bed without face planting into the floor.

He can hear Molly trailing behind him, and he tries to ignore how aware he is of Molly’s presence; has been ever since they woke up sharing the same pillow. Their foreheads touching; breathing each other’s air.

He mentally shakes off the memory, catching Caleb’s arm when he starts tilting to the side, and helps him the rest of the way to their room. Once inside, Fjord fusses with Caleb, taking his time pulling his boots and coat off, pulling the blankets over his pliant body, putting off the inevitable bed sharing he’s going to do again tonight for as long as possible.

When he runs out of things to do, he turns and sees Molly already laying in the bed, staring intently at the ceiling. Fjord slowly removes his layers, leaving them on the desk just like the night before, and crosses the room, getting into the bed.

He mimics Molly’s position, resting his head on his bent arm, and watches a beetle scuttle across the ceiling. He stiffens when he feels Molly move, but he’s just changing positions, putting his back to Fjord, and he murmurs, “Good night.”

“Yeah, g’night.”

* * *

They move on the next day, spending a good week on the road before finding a new place to stay. The Wayfinder’s Rest  is much nicer, owned by a cheery Gnome, and actually has three rooms for them to rent. Fjord turns to Molly, about to ask him if they’re still rooming together, and frowns when he sees him talking to Caleb.

“...just figured, we don’t spend nearly enough time together. Might as well share a room. Nott won’t mind, right?” Molly offers Caleb and Nott a cheery smile, and Fjord feels something dark slither in his stomach.

“I, I guess not,” Caleb says softly, his eyes darting towards Fjord before settling on Molly’s face again. “Right, Nott?”

An uncertain look on her face, Nott’s gaze jumps from Fjord to Molly and finally settles Caleb. “Sure.”

As they head towards the stairs, Beau appears at Fjord’s shoulder and asks, “Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know, how are things with Yasha?” Fjord retorts, noting the sour twist of Beau’s mouth, and he immediately says, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

She shrugs, trying for nonchalant and falling short. “No problem, man. No big deal.” Her eyes flicker over in Yasha’s direction, watching her nod along to something Jester is saying, a soft, amused smile on her face, and she says, “Wouldn’t work out anyway. I’ve never been the best at commitment.”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty committed to this group,” Fjord offers, smiling at her when Beau scowls his way.

She scoffs, shaking her head, and punches Fjord’s arm. “I’ll room with ya tonight, dude. We can drown our sorrows in alcohol.”

Absently rubbing his aching shoulder, Fjord says, “I think Jester would rather you stayed with her. You know, since you two are roomies and everything. I’ll be fine.”

She gives him a skeptical look, narrowing her eyes. “You sure?”

Fjord watches Molly trail after Caleb and Nott, animatedly chatting to them, barely giving Fjord a backwards glance, and he nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

* * *

Molly suppresses a sigh, staring at the ceiling. He can hear Caleb turning pages in his book, murmuring softly to himself, while Nott fusses with the buttons and pins she stole on their walk to the tavern. He knows he should try talking to them, he did invite himself into their room, but his mind is elsewhere.

Ever since The Restless Giant, he and Fjord haven’t spoken much. At the time, they could blame it on traveling. Too many late nights keeping watch; the usual irritation from sleeping in a cramped cart or on the hard ground; the need to find food so they didn’t starve to death before they found a new town to settle down in; factors that would prevent them from having a proper conversation.

But now. Now Molly supposes it’s his fault. He went and told Fjord not to make sharing a bed weird and here Molly is, kind of making it weird. He’s not completely to blame though, Fjord had a hand in it when he refused to bring it up after that first night and again after the second. Both times they woke up in rather intimate positions, almost as if they gravitated towards each other during the night, and Molly supposes he could have brought it up, too, but he’d been following Fjord’s lead.

He regrets that now.

He turns over onto his side, staring at the wall, burrowing deeper into his coat, listening as Nott hops up onto hers and Caleb’s bed. She murmurs, “Good night” to both of them, burying herself in blankets, and Molly can tell the exact moment she goes to sleep; her breath evening out, her body relaxing.

For a while, it’s silent in the room, with the exception of turning pages and soft breathing, but Caleb finally asks, “Did you and Fjord have a fight?”

“Hmm?” Molly sits up, looking over at Caleb. He hasn’t looked up from his book, eyes rapidly moving across the words, but he still looks interested in Molly’s answer. It’s astounding how his mind works.

“Not exactly,” Molly admits softly, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. “What are you reading?” he asks, swiftly changing the subject, and he hears Caleb huff.

“Nothing important.” Caleb closes his book, putting it on his nightstand, and blows the candle out. He settles back on his bed, and Molly takes that as his cue to lay back down. Another silence settles over the room, this one much heavier, and for a moment Molly thinks this is it for the night. No more conversation, just an awkward slumber party.

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Caleb says quietly, breaking the silence.

With a soft sigh, Molly murmurs, “Maybe I should.”

Just not tonight.

* * *

By the time they settle in the Crimson Chord a week later, Molly and Fjord are talking again. They’re annoyingly formal to each other, much like they were when they first met, but at least Molly isn’t inviting himself to stay with Caleb and Nott this time.

The Crimson Chord only has one room available, some sort of festival happening in the town filling up the others, and it’s a lot of arguing before Jester and Beau get one bed, Caleb and Nott the other. Molly and Fjord take the floor, setting up their bedrolls in the middle of the room, and the entire group settles down for the night.

“Do you think Yasha can find us?” Jester asks worriedly.

“She’s found us so far,” Molly reassures her, giving her a kind smile. “She’ll find us again. She’s good at that sort of thing.”

“Okay.” Jester returns Molly’s smile, burrowing into her blankets. “Thank you, Molly.”

“Anytime, darling.”

Fjord turns over onto his side, ignoring the way his stomach seizes, and closes his eyes. He listens as the rustling around the room starts to die down, each member slowly drifting off to sleep, the lull of deep breathing doing its damnedest to drag him under, too.

He loses the battle, awaking several hours later to a nose pressed against the back of his neck, an arm loosely draped around him, a heavy body curled almost protectively around his, and by the overwhelming heat it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s behind him.

“Uh, Molly,” Fjord says softly, hoping not to wake the others. He nudges Molly with his elbow, accidentally hitting him in the mouth, and Molly jolts awake.

“Ow, fuck,” he says and immediately releases Fjord, sitting up. Fjord turns over onto his back, watching as Molly swipes at his lip with his thumb, looking for blood.

“I’m sorry,” Fjord says softly.

“It’s fine,” Molly answers, scooting over to his own bedroll, not looking away quick enough to hide the way his bottom lip curled in irritation. “I didn’t mean to invade your space.”

Fjord sighs. “You, you didn’t.” He sits up, resting his elbows on his drawn knees, rubbing the back of his head. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making it weird.” Molly turns his head, watching Fjord warily, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s just, shit Molly, I don’t know.”

“Have you been taking social cues from Beau?” Molly tries to joke, but his words come out more sarcastic than jesting. He crosses his arms tightly against his chest, staring broodingly at the floor.

“I don’t wanna fight, okay?”

“I hadn’t planned on fighting,” Molly responds quietly, chewing on his bottom lip. He draws in a deep breath, letting it out, and turns his gaze on Fjord, suddenly smiling. “Let’s just forget it, okay? No harm done and all that nonsense.”

“I, I guess.

“Good.” Molly lays back down, turning his back to Fjord, and the whole room falls silent again.

It’s another thirty minutes before Fjord realizes that Molly’s smile looked far too strained. He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

* * *

They do a few odd quests over the next few weeks, make a fair bit of gold, but eventually they have to move on, heading west for the hell of it. If he’s being honest, Molly isn’t sad to see the Crimson Chord go, but he doesn’t say anything.

Fjord rides ahead of the group, Frumpkin trailing behind him, and Molly watches as Jester hauls Caleb up onto her horse, allowing him to warp into Frumpkin’s head. Nott sits on the cart, the reigns held tightly in her hands, worried eyes scanning the immediate area.

Beau stops her horse next to Molly, leaning over, and whispers, “Does it seem a little too quiet?”

“A bit,” he admits, looking up at they sky. “Not even a bird.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Caleb says suddenly, coming back to himself, and he nudges Jester. “Go, go, go.”

“Where?” she exclaims, already riding ahead.

Molly feels his stomach twist when Caleb says, “Fjord went down up ahead a ways. Go.” He swears in Zemnian, his eyes flashing in anger, and Molly knows Frumpkin went down, too.

Beau leaps off her horse, throwing the reigns at Molly, and scales a nearby tree, lightly leaping from branch to branch, and Molly follows her from the ground, leading her horse behind him, Nott trailing behind him in the cart.

He hears Nott stop the cart, hopping off, and Molly knows she’s going to sneak towards the action. She melts into the shadows, her cloak the last thing Molly sees, and he urges his horse to go faster.

When he breaks free of the clearing, the first thing he notices is Fjord leaning against a tree, breathing heavily, an arrow sticking out of his gut. His head is bleeding, along with his nose, and he has one arm wrapped around his torso, the other crackling with arcane energy. His horse is nowhere to be seen, no doubt taking off into the woods when its rider fell off.

There are two bandits sitting up in the trees, crossbows pointed in Fjord’s direction, but they shift their attention to the others when they arrive, one letting a bolt go in surprise, narrowly missing Molly.

“Fjord!” Jester exclaims, leaping off her horse, nearly taking Caleb with her, but he manages to stay seated. She hurries towards Fjord, ducking another stray bolt, and skids to a halt next to him, resting her hand against his cheek. “Are you okay? Do you need healing?”

“Not right now,” Fjord says, sniffing loudly and spitting a wad of blood onto the ground. “I’m fine.”

“You have a bolt in your stomach,” Molly points out, shoving down the gut clawing anger he feels towards the two bandits for harming Fjord, and the annoying bout of jealousy he feels towards Jester. He has no time for either one; especially the latter.

“I’m fine,” Fjord insists, but he leans his head against the tree, closing his eyes. “Just need a minute.”

“You take care of him,” Molly says to Jester, nodding towards Fjord, pulling free one of his scimitars. “Caleb and I have this.”

“Uh, ja. Ja, I guess we do,” Caleb says, uncertain, but he has already pulled his diamond from his pocket. He spins it in his hand, conjuring up a flash of flame, and fires it at the bandits.

Molly rides ahead, shouting in Infernal, “ _The hounds of hell are coming for you!”_  He sees one of the bandit’s eyes widen, fear turning his face a deathly white, and Molly smirks smugly.  _Serves you right, you bastard._

Molly feels a crackle in the air and watches as a jet of Eldritch Blast crashes into the branch the bandits are standing on, cracking it. The two bandits try to leap for another branch, but only one manages to make it, the other one screaming as he plummets to the ground.

There’s a rustle above Molly, and he looks up to see Beau land on the branch above him, raining leaves and twigs down on him, and she takes her defense stance.

“What’s going on?” she calls down to Molly.

“I think one’s dead,” he responds, waiting for the fallen bandit to get up. He twitches, groaning loudly, and Molly watches as he tries to push himself back up. He manages to get to his knees before a bolt sinks itself in his throat, dropping him back to the ground.

“Nott?”

“Definitely Nott,” Beau replies, her eyes shining with pride.

“We might be able to take the last one...” Molly trails off when he hears a sudden rustle of branches, his eyes snapping towards Caleb. He watches as a third bandit swings down from another tree, kicking Caleb in the chest with both of his feet and knocking him off the horse.

The bandit lands lightly on his feet, dagger clenched tightly in his teeth, sneering down at a winded Caleb. The other bandit, seeing his friend come to his rescue, fires his crossbow at Molly, swearing when he misses him again.

Jester peeks out from behind the tree, screaming in Infernal, “ _You’re not very nice, butthead!”_

The bandit shakes his head, but otherwise he seems unaffected by Jester’s attempt to mock him, and Molly hears Jester swear loudly before yelling, “Eat Lollipop, dickhead!”

The spectral lollipop appears in the air and slowly moves towards the bandit that attacked Caleb, hovering menacingly above him, and the bandit nervously looks up at it, barely managing to catch his dagger when it falls from his mouth.

Caleb struggles to sit up, trying to catch his breath, coughing harshly, specks of blood on his lips. He scrambles back when he sees the bandit hovering over him, searching desperately for his crystal, casting fire bolt in a panic. The flame flies past the bandit, singeing his hair, and slams into a tree, leaving behind a black streak.

Molly jumps off his horse and runs towards the bandit, swinging his sword upward, and knocks the guy backward, blood dripping off the tip of his sword from the shallow cut across his chest.

Fjord bursts out from behind the tree, falchion already in his hand, sprinting towards Molly. At first, Molly thinks he’s going after the bandit he just knocked down, but he surprises him by attacking a fourth bandit, appearing suddenly at Molly’s side with a twist of his black stoned ring, dagger swinging towards Molly’s exposed throat.

Fjord cuts the bandit’s hand off, sending both the appendage and the dagger thumping to the ground, and the man starts wailing in pain, clutching his bleeding stump to his chest.

“Holy shit,” Beau yells from above, already moving towards the remaining crossbow bandit, trying to climb down from his position. “That’s fucking badass!” She leaps onto the branch with the bandit, punching him squarely in the face. She reels back, punching him again before sending him falling to the ground with a kick to his chest.

When he lands, Molly hears a sickening crack, and he knows that man is not getting up again. Another bolt flies from somewhere to Molly’s left, sinking into the bleeding bandit’s chest, knocking him to the ground, and Molly turns his attention to the last remaining bandit.

“I’d run if I were you,” Molly says, noting the way the guy’s eyes widen in fear. He looks up at the spectral weapon hovering above him before dropping his gaze back to Molly. Nodding frantically, he scrambles backwards and sprints off into the woods, nearly tripping over a protruding root.

The moment he’s out of sight, Fjord drops to the ground, yanking the crossbow bolt from his stomach, breathing heavily. Nott bursts from the bushes, hurrying towards Caleb, digging around in her bag for a healing potion. Beau climbs down from the trees, moving towards the group, scanning the area for anymore bandits.

Jester kneels next to Fjord, touching his shoulder gently, and Molly watches as Fjord’s breathing eases, the wound in his gut slowly closing. “What were you thinking? I mean, I’m glad you saved Molly, but you really shouldn’t have run out like that. What would have happened if you would have missed? What would have happened if that man killed you both? Are you even listening to me?”

He’s not, his amber eyes locked with Molly’s red ones, and Molly nods in thanks. Fjord responds in kind, dipping his head, and returns his attention to Jester.

* * *

It takes them a bit to find Fjord’s horse, and it’s well past dusk when they eventually track it down. They make camp in a small alcove of trees, Beau and Jester taking first watch, Molly seeking out fire wood so Caleb can start a fire, Nott counting the loot they managed to scrounge off the bodies of the fallen bandits.

“They didn’t have a lot, and I gave Caleb that ring so he can tell us what it does exactly,” she says when Fjord crouches down next to her, wincing slightly when the action pulls on his sore side. She gives him a few copper pieces, along with one silver.

“Better than nothing,” Fjord says, pocketing the coins. He leans over and whispers, “Might as well keep the rest. I doubt the others will mind.”

“Are you sure?” Nott asks in a hushed voice, eyeing him warily.

He winks, nodding. “I’m sure.”

He pushes himself to his feet, grunting in pain, and moves towards Jester and Beau. Jester smiles up at him, concern in her eyes, and asks, “Do you need more healing?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it ain’t nothing I can’t sleep off. How are you two doing?”

“Compared to you and Caleb, we’re fine,” Beau answers, wrapping adhesive around her staff. “Did you see that dude kick Caleb in the chest? Nott barely held her position when she saw him go down.”

“I should go heal him again,” Jester says softly, her worried gaze seeking out Caleb. He’s sitting against a tree, nose buried in a book, absentmindedly reaching for a cat that’s not on this plane. When he realizes what he’s doing, he curls his hand into a fist, letting out a frustrated breath, and focuses harder on the book in front of him.

“You got anything to help him bring his cat back?” Fjord asks curiously. Jester shakes her head sadly. “Maybe y’all should keep an eye on him; make sure he’s okay.”

“Nott and I can do this,” Jester says and scrambles to her feet, hurrying over to Caleb, grabbing Nott’s hand on the way and dragging her along, too.

Fjord watches the girls go, smiling, shaking his head slowly. He turns to Beau, sighing softly when he finds her studying him, and he says, “Yes?”

“You talk to Molly? You know, since your heroic rescue?” She smirks, quirking an eyebrow, and Fjord scowls at her, hating how his ears start to burn.

“Mind your business,” he grumbles and Beau grins. “Stop it.”

“Didn’t say anything,” she states, snickering softly. “Just a regular knight in Agathys armor, aren’t you? Bet Molly’d make a hell of a damsel, right Fjord?”

Fjord sighs again, walking away from her, throwing his hands in the air when she chuckles. He’s too tired to deal with her teasing tonight, and he doesn’t feel like bringing up her practically non-existent relationship with Yasha; especially since Yasha hasn’t been around for nearly a month.

He stops next to Caleb long enough to make sure he’s actually okay, but he doesn’t linger, Nott and Jester already sitting on either side of him. His hand is sitting on top of Nott’s head, idly playing with her hair, and he looks mildly happier now that he has her next to him. He even laughs softly at one of Jester’s jokes, much to Fjord’s surprise, and Jester takes that as her cue to keep talking to him. It’s going to be a long night for Caleb, but he's going to be okay.

Fjord isn’t even aware he’s actively looking for Molly until he finds him cleaning his swords next to the cart, back against the wheel, coat hanging above him to keep it off the ground.

“Mind if I sit?” Fjord asks, nodding to the spot next to Molly.

“I’m not stopping you,” Molly answers lightly, running a cloth across the blade of his scimitar.

Fjord lowers himself to the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him, and rests his head against the cart, looking up at the stars. He figures he should say something, maybe apologize or try to explain, but Fjord can’t think of the right words. Nothing seems good enough, so he just reaches out and pats Molly’s knee instead.

He sees Molly smile out of the corner of his eye, looking almost shy, and he reaches over and squeezes Fjord’s wrist. He releases him a moment later, returning to his swords, and Fjord closes his eyes, feeling more content than he’s had in over a month.

* * *

Two nights later, they find themselves in another tavern: The Wistful Wyvern. They’re greeted by a harried human woman, juggling too many things and complaining about her barkeeper being late, but she’s able to give them the keys to three rooms.

Caleb and Nott disappear into one room, Beau and Jester into another (the latter chatting happily about a new book she’d purchased today; Fjord’s happy, he’d been getting a little tired of the Oskar comments), and Molly follows Fjord into the last room.

Molly throws his bag onto the bed by the door, moving towards the window. He looks outside, chuckling softly, and says, “Looks like Yasha found us.”

Fjord heads over to him, looking down at the alleyway, watching as Yasha wearily walks towards the tavern, her sword strapped to her back, cloak drawn up over her head. “Jester’ll be happy.”

“As will Beau.” Molly turns towards Fjord, and they share an amused yet fond smile. They’re standing rather close to each other, practically breathing the same air, and Fjord waits for Molly to move away.

When he doesn’t, Fjord takes a step closer, backing Molly into the window, crowding his space. He tilts his head back, looking up at Fjord, and smiles. “Isn’t this my move?”

Fjord hums softly, gently touching Molly’s cheek, brushing his lip with his thumb, feeling Molly shudder beneath his touch, watching his eyes slip closed. Fjord leans forward, resting his forehead against Molly’s, and whispers, “I think I wanna kiss you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Their first kiss is quick, tentative, an experiment; Fjord expecting Molly to push him away; Molly just waiting for Fjord to suddenly change his mind. Their second kiss is longer, more sure, ending in a soft groan, but neither one knows from who. Their third kiss is borderline dirty, with groping hands, exploring, testing how far they can push this, and Molly breaks it with a soft laugh, resting his forehead against the side of Fjord’s face, nudging his cheek with his nose.

“You kiss me like that again and we’re fucking against this window,” he comments, lips moving against the side of Fjord’s mouth.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

Molly looks over his shoulder, watching a random guard walk past the window, his lantern bobbing up and down. A slow, cat-like smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head. “Nothing wrong with a little bit of voyeurism.”

They completely ignore the second bed that night.


End file.
